


when your heart has expired

by superhusbands



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:30:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhusbands/pseuds/superhusbands
Summary: "i think they meant it when they said you can't buy love.but i know you can rent it. a new lease you are my love, on life."their lease was up too soon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> well, i think we can all say -- without a doubt -- that the finale was pretty shocking.  
> this is my little fic to help us all deal with that and process it.

>                                                                                        " Are we still breathing? What's left to believe in?   
>                                                                                                  Are we still breathing? ( I wanna know )  
>                                                                                           Tell me what's left to believe in. I wanna know. "  
>    
> 

 

                       Her body hurts. Every breath feels like a knife ripping through her, voiding her of breath, and she almost wishes that she was still hooked up to the machines.  
      Before, she wasn't responsible for breathing. It was controlled for her -- she had no say, no  _choice_ , and she almost preferred it that way. If she was given the choice, if someone asked her what she wanted... she wasn't sure she'd take it. If she let go, if she just  **stopped** , maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. 

Because it did. Hurt. Every breath, every thought, every beat of her heart brought pain upon her that she hadn't known possible. She'd thought she'd known what pain was when she'd found out about Lila, learned that Frank -- of all people -- had been the one to get them into the mess they were in, but she'd been wrong. If she could have that pain back, clutch onto it with every fibre of her being, she'd trade it in a heartbeat for how she was feeling now.  After Frank, she'd felt hollow. Used. Like everything he'd ever said to her had been a lie and she'd been foolish enough to believe him. She'd loved him, sure, and it seemed overwhelming at the time, but she was having a hard time holding onto that now. No, not after everything that had happened. That bridge was burned. There would be no going back.

With her eyes screwed shut, all she could do was focus on breathing. In and then out, in and then out. Over and over again until the  _in's_ and  _out's_ were nothing but noise in her head as she focused on staying calm. Ever since they'd told her the truth, since she'd seen  _His_ face on the news, she hadn't dared think about him. Not since the initial moment where everything had gone black. Meggy had been holding her hand, crying into her shoulder, and her lungs had burned from more than just the smoke inhalation. 

 

 _i don't want to wake up and realize none of this was real._  
_it's real for me._  
         
                                                                                                                                                   she hadn't realized that she was screaming until they'd sedated her. 

 

The next day when she woke up, Michaela was sitting by her side. Her eyes were red and puffy, something she never would have allowed anyone to see given other circumstances, but her grip was deathly as she stared blankly at the wall across from them. Sensing her movement, Michaela turned to face her and shot her a watery smile. Laurel couldn't return it. How could she? Everything was different now. Everything had changed. 

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

She didn't respond. She didn't need to. It was the kind of question you asked, knowing that the response you got wasn't going to be a good one. But it was polite, and Michaela was nothing if not that. Thankfully she didn't try to make small talk, didn't say that it would be okay, simply squeezed her hand harder and avoided eye contact. Swallowing thickly, Laurel let her eyes close for a moment as she blinked back tears. She didn't want to cry, didn't want to be weak. Didn't want to accept that this was really and truly happening.

 

"You should know what's happening."

Laurel looked up, the silence broken by Michaela's words -- her voice sounding thick and garbled, like getting the words out was a challenge for her. "Annalise was arrested. They're charging her with -- with first degree murder." Her hands were shaking as she spoke, but she never loosened her grip. "They wouldn't let her out on bail. Or she didn't want out on bail, I'm... I'm not really sure what happened. Bonnie's taking care of it." 

More silence. Laurel couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but sit there and breathe.  
_In_ and  _Out._

"The baby's okay. If you were wondering. I don't know if... they said they told you, but I..."

Her eyes screw tighter together, breath coming in sharply. She'd heard them when they'd told her the night before, in between rounds of sedation and consciousness, but she hadn't been able to process it. How could she? She was too young to have a baby, too young for any of this, and were  _He_ here... he might have driven her to the clinic himself. Or, her conscience pointed out, he might have wanted to raise it himself. He'd lost his parents too young, been on his own for so long, having a real family...

 _No.  
_ She couldn't go there. It would break her if she let herself think about it.

"Michaela." She managed to grit out, her voice weak and raspy from the smoke and lack of use. She doesn't have to say anymore -- Michaela gets it. Or at least, she lets it go.

 

* * *

 

It's been three weeks since the fire.

She was discharged four days ago, allowed to go home and continue to recuperate, but her apartment was a reminder of everything she'd lost. She's been staying with Michaela and Connor (and Asher, apparently, given that he's been there every night as far as she knows. She doesn't blame Michaela for latching on tightly) and while it's cramped she can't bear to go home. They've got no job to go to, Winter break is keeping them free from classes, and they're left with far too much time to themselves for her liking.

Oddly enough, it's Connor she spends the most time with.

He pours them twin glasses of bourbon and drinks them both, knowing that she wants to but can't bring herself to. He would hate her for it, and she already hates herself enough as it is.  
There's something missing in her eyes that she recognizes -- it's missing in hers too. Broken people recognize other broken people.

He takes her to her OBGYN appointment and holds her hand through the first panic attack when it's over.

It's been three months since the fire and it's the first time she breathes his name.   
It hurts. 

* * *

 

Asher helps her build the crib. It falls apart three times before they manage to get it right, and it breaks her heart to see it in the room where she and Wes had once spent hours tangled under the sheets. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, she can still feel his lips pressing against her shoulder. Feel his heartbeat under her hand as they lay together. 

It never gets easier.   
She'd hoped it would, but there's a hole in her heart she just can't fill. 

Connor falls in love again. It's messy, and she knows it won't last, but she's happy for him. She's in love too. 

Wesley Castillo is born on a Wednesday.  
He's loud, wriggly, and nearly kills her on the way out. 

But when she's got him wrapped in her arms, tears gathering in her eyes, she can't help but feel that it's right.   
It's right that she kept him, it's right that he's there, and it's right that she lived.   
  
Wes might have died.  
But this isn't the end of their story. 


End file.
